52 #2
Mortensen has taken everything from me in hopes to wear me down to nothing.
He wishes to see me depleted and weathered like Clara.
Vesper winces at my displaced anger. Shit, I know this isn't her fault, but that doesn't stop my anger raining down like Thor's hammer. “Not yet. Not until you listen to me.”
My patience is running thin. My thoughts are running rampant. Is she ok? Is she going to make it? I've got nothing left to lose if she doesn’t make it. Fear washes over me like a blood red sea of wrath.
“NOW.” I shout. I'm not proud of the dick I'm being, but I know nothing else. I probably tore her heart out. Thanks, Mortensen, you bastard. Zain strides through the doorway with a scowl. “Scream at her again and I'll cut you.” His threats do little to faze me anymore.
I gnash my teeth together, wanting nothing more than to get to my girl.
I'm seething. Screw patience. I've got none.
Vesper rises from her chair and whispers to Zain as if I don't have fucking ears.
I interrupt their conversation. I will tear the world apart; kill every mother fucker to get to her.
Guess my obsession has turned into something more unruly.
“LET. ME. GO!” I repeat sharply. They both turn to me. Vesper is somber. Zain looks like he's growing increasingly concerned. Valid. I've been a chaotic mess of upheaval. I grow restless. Zain jams his hands in his pockets.
“She's fine. We're at Roland's estate. Mortensen can't get to either of you. She's alive, but she's not out of the woods yet, but improving.”
The metal cuffs strain against my flesh, grinding into my bone.
Fresh blood pours from my veins, but I don't even feel it.
I've become immune to pain, abuse, and everything in between.
He's not wrong. I will destroy everything in my path.
For the first time in this fucked up life, I give a shit about something other than myself, and it scares the hell out of me.
Vesper sinks back into the chair next to me.
She nods at Zain. He exits into the hall, closing the door behind him.
My eyes stay glued to her fragile little body.
Vesper places her hand over mine. I don't do affection.
It's foreign to me. She just looks up at me and offers a warm half smile.
Typical Vesper. Too kind. Too trusting. Too Goddamn nice for her own good.
I’m a shitty brother for her to end up with.
Out of everyone on the planet, she gets me.
As if she can read my mind, she rubs soothing circles over my busted knuckles. “Today has been a shock for everyone. It's okay to feel. It's healthy to feel, Kieran. I know you love her.”
I grunt, unwilling. Logic would have me play along, but I can't do this heart-to-heart nonsense.
I have no damn clue if Clara is on the brink of death and Vesper wants me to open up?
She's out of her damn mind. Her eyes laser into me, dragging me under like a weight.
“I love you, Kieran. You're strong. You're smart.”
Her words hit different. No one's ever told me that shit before.
My body relaxes a fraction. The cuffs clank against the rail as my shoulders sag.
My head falls against the pillow. I stare up at the white ceiling like it's got the answers.
I'm silently soaking in her words. Not a clue how long I sit there ignoring her.
Long enough for her to drop my hand and make her way to the door.
“I'm not good for her. Or you,” I finally offer. That's all she's getting out of me.
Her footsteps halt. I tilt my head forward. I feel like a train wreck. The adrenaline is slowly leaving my system. I knew I was going to feel it later. None of it mattered in the moment. I'd still do it all again.
“You're good. You're stronger than any of us. I know a few of the abhorrent things Mortensen has done. Now to learn he's my father.”
She shakes her head, holding back the string of tears that's ready to erupt.
“I am still too mentally weak to strike the hammer of justice, but you, you're hardened. I don't know the full extent of why you hate that man, but I believe it's justified. Do not let him rule your life no matter what he has done to you.”
Her words seep into my skin. I never stopped to think what she'd think of me killing him now that we know he's her blood father.
I'm so wrapped up in my own vengeance I got tunnel vision.
I'm in no place to open up to her. She could never sympathize with my past.
I'll never get put back together. I'll always be this broken disaster of a man.
No matter how many times I lie to myself, I know the truth.
He's shaped me into the person I am. I'm a hellish beast with no remorse who feeds off destruction.
Hiding has gotten me nowhere. I've come to terms with it, maybe not fully.
I feel no need to remedy myself. She can accept me for who I am or fuck off.
“I'm a reflection of him, Vesper. I am a mangled mess. I'm irreparable,” I mutter. As if I'd even want to be fixed, I'm not sure I'd even like myself, then.
Her eyes fall shut. She takes a measured breath. “She loves you.” Her eyes scan to Clara. The breathing tube is positioned in Clara's throat. A steady drip of medicine cycles through her IV.
Her words slam into me like a speeding car into a brick wall. Clara doesn't love me. Hell, I used her, abused her and fed her to my inner beast, just to watch her fall. She hates me. If she had the chance, she'd light me on fire just to watch me burn. I laugh at the irony.
Vesper purses her lips while pacing the small room. “Grimshaw is in upheaval. The carefully crafted world Mortensen has built is crumbling around him after what transpired at the Void. Word got out. Everyone knows about our connection and his involvement in breeding with impure women.”
Confusion fills me. There is no way anyone would bat an eyelash at his heinous debauchery or the shit done to shape me. It's the Elite way. Murder, rape, and prostitution are the norm, but they draw the line at breeding with the impure. It's never made sense to me.
“What do you mean?” I ask carefully. Not entirely sure I want the answer.
If I could wash my hands of Grimshaw and the Void, I would.
Instead, I’m the one to seize the opportunity and topple the empire to ash.
The satisfaction of watching the light leave Mortensen's eyes as the world he has constructed is obliterated will fulfill me for the rest of my days, however short they may be.
Her eyes carry a hint of hesitation and paranoia. “The Elites are whispering in the halls about an uprising. If the sovereign cannot keep reins on his own son, who is he to give orders . . .” she trails off, shrugging.
I glance back over at Clara. I shrug my shoulders to loosen the tension. “You think there is gonna be an insurgence?” I don't know why I care. I should walk away, letting the world fall to ruin.
She sighs heavily and swipes a tendril of hair from her eyes. “They're proposing that all non-Elites are used in Void without permission or rules, not just the easy targets from unprivileged backgrounds. Without a sovereign, nobody will be there to stop the rabble.
There is talk of rounding up all the impure . . .”
Shit. The board was set from the jump and the moves I planned to take were never an option. Fate clearly had a crueler design in mind, and it's fucked I dragged my girl into the chaos. I'll never wash my hands of this shit. I'm destined to be entwined with this life like barbed wire.
Somehow, I calm my shit down enough to have Vesper uncuff me.
My wrists will have permanent ligature marks embedded in my skin after it heals.
Additions to the endless scars. Her words float around my subconscious, but I manage to block it out so I can keep my focus strictly on Clara.
When she wakes, she's gonna hate me worse than before.
A small sacrifice. I can live with that, as long as she's mine.